


storm chaser

by ecorone



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Intersex Loki (Marvel), M/M, Thor: Ragnarok, a nice quiet moment between brothers, do what you feel now, low key daddy issues, weird lightning!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecorone/pseuds/ecorone
Summary: “I’m here.” Alternate/expanded Thor: Ragnarok scene with Loki and Thor aboard the ship. Loki/Thor and Thor/Hela by proxy.





	storm chaser

Loki catches the object with his right hand. “I’m here,” he says softly.

Thor turns away to disguise the oddly satisfied smile betraying his lips. “Are you?” He pauses to hand Loki a crystal tumbler of the mystery liquor he just poured. Loki accepts the drink but doesn’t consume it, just grips the heavy glass as if it grounds him. 

“I’m counting down the minutes until you’ve got a knife at my throat,” Thor continues after a scalding swallow of his own drink. “After which, you will reveal that you planned all of this from the beginning, when you imprisoned our father in Midgard.” He gestures with a large sarcastic hand.

Loki sucks in an equally sarcastic breath through his teeth. “Still not used to this new wisecracking version of you. Tell me where you picked it up, and I’ll tell you what else I’ve been up to... there are _secret_ rooms aboard this ship, did you know?” In a display of sentience, the ship purrs low and deep through all of her engines.

Thor declines. He drains his glass to distract himself from the following concerns: what the ship knows; what Loki has been doing in these rooms; what Loki is inviting him to do. The last thought transmutes into a _spark_ and pings blue-white around the glass at his fingertips.

Loki’s gaze flits between Thor’s face and his electrified hand. “Ah. Thor, Son of Odin, God of Thunder, King of Asgard-Not-a-Place, hasn’t yet mastered control of his newfound powers. I would say I’m _shocked_ , but, well…” His tight little smirk is predictable. The muddled lust darkening his eyes is not. After a moment's hesitation, he puts on an air of disinterest and swaggers over until his slim body cages his brother’s.

 _Interesting_ , Thor thinks. _Let’s see if I can..._

Thor lets an experimental jolt escape down his free arm. What follows is a loud _crack_ and a shattering noise - Loki flinches. Thor blinks at the glass shards at their feet and the sparks dancing around both of his hands. Loki gives him a patronizing smile and reaches past him to set his untouched drink on the table. After a second, irritated flare, Thor manages to staunch the energy flow enough to touch Loki without zapping him. He brushes a thumb against Loki’s cheekbone and trails down to come to a rest on his lips. Loki inhales sharply at the prickly sensation but doesn’t let himself lean into the touch, even though it’s been _too fucking long_ , too many grapes and not enough thunder...

“Whom do you want this time?” he blurts out.

Loki shifts easily from form to form: Banner. Korg. The Grandmaster. Valkyrie. And then, because his inner masochist is screaming, he settles on Hela. Thor jerks his hand away from his sister’s face, although it still wouldn’t be the worst thing Loki has ever done to him - no, that would be the time when he took Odin's shape as Thor was coming.

"Change back." Thor's voice is a low rumble, and his lone eye glitters like the tesseract that Loki definitely did not steal. 

The sight of Death herself _pouting_ is a strange one. “Make me,” she taunts, sitting into her left hip. 

For a second, Thor is young again, running with Loki through the halls of the palace and starting fistfights destined to end in piles of shaky adolescent limbs. Loki loved sneaking into the kitchen and absconding with pastries he had no intention of eating. More than that, he loved feasts. While his duplicate convinced Odin to make Thor stand up and give a speech, Loki himself would slip under the tablecloth, nudge Thor’s thighs apart and have his choked excuses for dessert. _Odin._ An image of his father cuts through the cloud of memories. The incessant current beneath Thor’s skin surges forth, while the thunder restrained in his ribcage rattles harder, desperate with grief. Hela notices Thor’s arm hairs standing on end and, as if magnetized, draws even closer.

“Don’t-” Thor says through gritted teeth when she reaches forward, but Loki does what he wants, and her fingers clamp down on Thor’s forearm. Hela gasps when the charge transfers to her own skin, but she tightens her grip and digs in her sharp nails. The cords in her neck flex, thrown half into shadow by the fluorescent lights. A possessive desire rockets through Thor’s neurons - there’s _heat_ driving his inner storm - and he convinces himself to coast on her resemblance to Loki, at least until the trickster god gets their favorite game (Make Me) out of his system. Enthralled, he grasps her exposed shell-white throat, so narrow in the circumference of his broad palm, and the second point of contact steals a moan from her lips. Thor’s energy fluxes through them in an unbroken circuit. It’s nothing like a sustained taser to the neck - no, it feels _exquisite._

“You revile me, yet you cannot exist without me,” she hisses, eyes flashing through the pleasure. Her inky black hair floats halo-like in the dry air. “I am eternal. I cannot be changed. The wolf cannot be faulted for devouring the raven.” 

Thor’s aura crackles in warning before bolts of lightning fire off his body and capture Hela in a field of electricity. Her knees buckle, but she tackles him to the ground as she falls. They tumble and clang around, fighting for control as lightning bolts ricochet around them. When she headbutts him once, he is grateful that Loki chose not to wear her wickedly pointed helmet. Abandoning all grace, Thor hefts his greater bulk to force her body into submission. Her hair smells of crushed leaves, he thinks as she squirms against him. He shoves her forehead against the metal floor - because _revengers_ \- and she mourns how the cold surface carries away the electricity.

Thor scrabbles at the leather around her hips only to realize he has no idea how to remove the skin-tight suit. Hela lets him struggle a bit before intervening with convenient disrobing magic. He frees himself of his trousers but spares a slow moment to tease her cunt, first with his thick fingers and then with his swollen cockhead. She arches her back and blasphemes against several lesser gods until he relents and pushes into her without warning. Her startled cry deepens in pitch, and Thor feels the body beneath him harden into the lithe lines of Loki’s human form.

Smug now, Thor flips Loki around so that he’s flushed-face up. He hazily notes the changed texture gripping his cock, and Loki squeezes once to remind him that his cunt is _better._ Thor grabs a fistful of Loki’s hair and pulls him into a bruising, metallic-tasting kiss; Loki tries to return the favor only to growl in frustration because Thor’s new hair is _too fucking short_. Thor quells him by fucking him into the floor. Divine energy floods out of him, explosive and searing, but cycles back from his brother chilled and slippery. Loki’s fingernails carve fractal-like patterns into Thor’s back; he’s starved for more, _more_ vicarious power, because sex has never been about sex - not with Thor, not for centuries. Red bleeds into Loki’s eyes, and a blue tinge overtakes half his face; Thor is late to notice, but he pulls back, alarmed.

“Loki! Are you-”

Loki seizes him by the collar of his vest and pants, “Don’t you fucking dare stop now.”

He surrenders to it then, lets his veins crystallize into ice, because _lightning cannot kill a jotunn_ , or something like that. The air tastes of Thor, of summer smoke and the promise of rain. Thor takes Loki’s aching cock in hand, and Loki shudders as he pulls him down into the heavens. A glowing electric eye is the last thing Loki sees before his vision whites out. The crash and ring of the room’s destruction is drowned out by the roar of thunder.

Thor collapses over Loki, muscles twitching as he discharges leftover static. Loki doesn't register the weight at first - he's so paralyzed that he swears he's dead - but sure enough, sensation returns to his body in tingly waves. He makes a face at the feeling of fluids against his skin but can't be arsed to move. They lie still, breathing raggedly as they did on the Norwegian field after Odin’s spirit dissolved into golden dust. After a minute, Thor cranes his neck to survey the damage around the dim room: table splintered in two, furniture charred and smoking, glass broken and liquor spilled. Above them, a single surviving light fixture flickers weakly.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” quips Thor. His torn-off cape lying in the corner of the room has caught fire. He should probably take care of that. 

Loki grins and pats a heat-warped spot on the floor. “Don’t worry. She won’t tell.”

**Author's Note:**

> fic-relevant ragnarok thorki feels playlist
> 
>  **Black Sheep** // Metric  
>  **Young God** // Halsey  
>  **No Light, No Light** // Florence + The Machine  
>  **Death in General** // Soilwork  
>  **Made of Stone** // Envy on the Coast  
>  **Montezuma** // Fleet Foxes  
>  **Glory and Gore** // Lorde  
>  **New Fears** // Lights  
>  **Electric Feel** // MGMT  
>  **begin again** // Purity Ring


End file.
